The Lady of Shalott
by Allison Wonderland
Summary: It is that moment between life and death that clarifies the soul. Set pre and post Judgment Day. A study in three parts.
1. I am half sick of shadows

"_The Lady of Shalott" is a poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson in which the Lady is lives inside a tower on the river to Camelot. She is cursed to never able to look at the outside world lest she die, destined to see time go by through a mirror. Seeing her future pass her by and the things she is missing, she takes her first glance outside and the curse takes hold. She travels from her castle to go to Camelot and dies on the way, life cut tragically short before it began. It reminded me of Jenny's life and death, a life half lived. The chapter titles are lines from the poem. I have provided a link in my profile so you can read it if you wish. I own neither NCIS or The Lady of Shalott.  
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_~*~  
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_I am half sick of shadows_

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The reflection from the window glistened in the polished glass of the coffee table. From the setting sun, the office glowed reds and golds. But the beauty did not impress Jenny. Sitting safely in this ivory tower of hers gave her no pleasure, no sadness, no nothing. Protected, yes, but empty. It was if she was already dead, just waiting for the moment for when she would depart from the mortal coil. Bound by rules, propriety, the past, she wondered, was half a life worth living?

The future frightened her. She was dying, it had been proven without a doubt that surgery would be impossible and would not save her, that she would die a slow and painful death, slowly shut out from the from the world as the tumor took over her brain and robbed her of the ability to see, hear, speak, and care for herself until it finally ended her life as she drifted alone in her world of darkness.

She could not, would not live this way or die this way. She had things to take care of. Let the curse come upon her and the consequences be damned.


	2. The curse is come upon me

_The curse is come upon me_

_~*~  
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Cold. She was cold.

Darkness enveloped her, surrounded her, was her.

So this was death. She had never been very religious but had always felt there was going to be something after death.

Odd, she could feel herself breathing, hear her heart beating.

So this was not death but dying.

She felt damp. Blood.

She felt damp. Tears.

She was crying.

How ironic it was that only at the moment of her death did she want to live.


	3. God in his mercy lend her grace

_God in his mercy lend her grace_

~*~

The cold had vanished, leaving instead a blessed warmth that she welcomed into her soul. Darkness had faded to light and she knew her half life had ended.

Bullet holes no longer littered her body and the constant light ache that had resided in her head for years had vanished.

She felt a hand upon her shoulder and turned to see her father and her mother and fell gratefully into their arms, accepting their love for the first time since she was a child.

Turning in their arms, she could now see the world as a whole, focusing on the cursed diner and the people there. She felt their tears and reached down to brush them away. No tears should be shed for her.

"They will cry." Her mother's voice drifted softly. "That is the burden we must bear, to see those who feel the hole we have left behind. You are their Guardian now, wipe their tears and heal their pain and point them along their right path. That has been your destiny, that through your death you may live wholly in their hearts and prevent the sins of the past from becoming the mistakes of the future."

~*~

The sins of the past. Her and Jethro.

~*~

The scratch of the sander upon the boat was heavy and harsh in the arid silence. Tears fell from his eyes, heedlessly marring the wood with darkened drops.

Jen laid a hand on top of his and felt the chill of his soul. She filled him with warmth and then held him as he cried. And she knew that he had felt her presence as he began to call her name. For what they had, for what could never be.

~*~

Heard a carol, mournful, holy,  
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,  
Till her blood was frozen slowly,  
And her eyes were darkened wholly,  
Turn'd to tower'd Camelot.  
For ere she reach'd upon the tide  
The first house by the water-side,  
Singing in her song she died,  
The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,  
By garden-wall and gallery,  
A gleaming shape she floated by,  
Dead-pale between the houses high,  
Silent into Camelot.  
Out upon the wharfs they came,  
Knight and Burgher, Lord and Dame,  
And around the prow they read her name,  
_The Lady of Shalott. _

Who is this? And what is here?  
And in the lighted palace near  
Died the sound of royal cheer;  
And they crossed themselves for fear,  
All the Knights at Camelot;  
But Lancelot mused a little space  
He said, "She has a lovely face;  
God in his mercy lend her grace,  
The Lady of Shalott."

Alfred Lord Tennyson

~*~

Author's Note: Thank you for reading. This has been something that's been nagging at me for quite a while then while studying Tennyson in class, it all came together. I've always found this poem to be impossibly sad, that only in the moment of death could the Lady truly live and Jen's story seemed to echo that.


End file.
